I am very sorry for the wait, but the Thrall part of this chapter was killing me...anyways I have no excuse other than that besides writers bloc. So yes, Warhamer 40k will finally be entering the picture and more detailed in chapter 5. Anyways R&R


Chapter 4; Reflections

It had been an unbearable five weeks for Kalimdor residents after Deathwing's arrival, as he spearheaded his campaign against the mortal races.

Destruction was his bane, and his rage was his essence against all who stood against him.

Durotar, the Barrens, and all other realms were shifted ablaze with his relentless fury.

An example of this would be Orgrimmar; a city of hope for the Horde now turned into a ruined city rebuilding itself as the fires of 'change' annihilated it.

Orcs, Taurens, Undead, Blood Elves; it mattered not to him. Many turned to ash as he began his reign of destruction. The young, the old, and the weak were vaporized within instances of his fires.

Though as he now went to end the Eastern Kingdom's power in the region, once again did the scourge of doubt enter his mind.

"Am I even helping the world by making the mortal races weak or go extinct? Will Alexstrasza understand what I do is for, perhaps, the betterment of the world? Why should I not turn myself in?"

With a turn of his head, looking across the blue ocean before him, he tried to block out these…traitorous thoughts! How could his mission be folly? His ideals be fake?

Alexstrasza would understand, by his mind, and if not then…she would have to be considered an enemy to kill. Yet how was this so hard for him to think of killing her?

Indeed the thought to him now should be more of an mandatory objective then an option now due to the Red Dragon flight's hostility towards his own flight.

But it didn't feel like an objective to him; rather a choice. A choice a part of him wished not to make. Though what was his thinking? If it has to be done it has to be done!

Even if it is difficult, even if it does deal with permanently putting an end to their past friendship.

His growl intensified as this inner conflict of choice continued. How was this becoming of him? He, the Destroyer of Worlds! To be hesitant at the idea of killing his worst enemy, would be a disaster for the plans of the new age.

But to be not hesitant…would mean he has lost what he once wanted; her by his side under a new reign of peace. Two worthy mates guiding the world into an era of prosperity.

With a gasping sigh, he pressed on eastward; toward more countless destruction. But as he pressed on, continuing a goal driven by destiny, it was apparently that at each flap, at each inch that the air compelled him to move was giving him a feeling which he had not experienced in ten thousand years.

The feeling itself? Its essence drove all from his body, mind, and soul. He was nothing but a husk with it clawing at him without remorse or pity. Empathy, Apathy, Happiness, Sadness, Anger, none of this emotions or any others existed within him while this feeling drove him to war. To hell.

What was this feeling? It is simple; Nothingness. How did this feeling originate? And from where? Although he, himself, asked this question while staring at the endless blue ocean, he also knew its answers.

His mind became muddled on the day of his ascension to power; to Deathwing. At that exact same hour; Neltharion had died, as did most of his attachments toward the Dragon flights… With his eyes becoming weary to the sight of the ocean, the mind began to play the all too familiar sounds.

The screams of terror and death, the shocks of many who adored him, lastly a damnation which he vowed never to re-hear.

But its sound, like a clawing tearing apart flesh, was too much for him. As the memories, finally, re-awoken within his mind.

The smokes of war trifled up into his nostrils, with the flames of the Burning Legion beckoning him to use that which could achieve victory over all other factors of defeat.

The Dragon Soul; the object he had created, and along with significant amount of powers from the other Aspects, was the sole weapon that could win this war. At least in his perspective.

Although the battle of the Night Elves against the hordes of the Legion was 'successful' so far, Neltharion did not believe so. That it was a ploy of the Legion to bring them, and their allies into a trap in which Azeroth's final defense would be destroyed in one stroke.

So, the time had come to activate the Dragon Soul, his weapon against the Legion and all those who would threaten Azeroth with their darkness. It would grant him the power to control, ultimately, the other Dragon flights.

Some might wonder why he would want such power, wish for it. The answer was simple to him; The consolidation of this power and usage of it upon the Burning Legion would effectively cripple their defenses. This would force them into a position to either be annihilated by his hand, or cowardly retreat into their universe as the forces of Azeroth end the Burning Legion's case upon their world once and for all.

That is how it should, and would, happen or the Burning Legion would become victorious over the forces of Azeroth. "It must be done!", he thought…and yet at the back of his mind, at the heart of his soul, spoke of another plan. Of another outcome.

The small voice echoed; "Allow Alexstrasza and the Dragon-Flights to help you end the menace. Do not allow this avarice to claim you Neltharion! This step you take…will determine your future…" as it continued the sound grew weaker after each word it displaced within his mind.

This must be an Old God trick! How could he, Neltharion the Earth-Warder, be avarice? He was anything but this, this was the benevolence he has given to the world slandered upon!

Though while Neltharion halted his though process to watch the battle with a joy that would encompass his very soul, the Dragon-Flights appeared to aid in this battle.

As his eyes, darkened with the Old God's whispers, shifted to their direction it was evident that this would be the perfect time to activate the Dragon Soul.

Yet… a sole dragon came to him, one sparkled with the red warmth of life and love. Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder. The sight was an intoxication toward his mind and very being, as she approached him with glories of happiness.

"Neltharion, there you are!", she exclaimed as her grace landed upon the same platform as he, "The others and I were worried something had befallen you! …But why are you here? The battle is won…return Wymrest temple with me so we may leave this horrid war forever…".

Her tone, her overall emotion, was one of pain and grievance. The war, though mostly any war, was damaging her well being and the psyche of the Queen. Life wasted in such a manner would likely drive her into a deep depression of no return.

That was perhaps his second resolve to end the conflict, to appease her with the revival of life with its threat gone. But as he turned to the battle, his voice began to give his answer for absence.

"Ah, but I will make sure the Legion shall never attack Azeroth again! The Dragon Soul shall help me eradicate them from the face of this universe, as they tremble before my might!", a grin formed that had the thought of ending the Burning Legion once and for all.

But these thoughts were soon interrupted by Alexstrasza, with an almost pleading look about her, and her worriment; "Neltharion, don't say things like that…Killing them all, having just the emotions of vengeance and hate will only lead to more life spilt over a war that should have never happened!"

As they once more looked into each other's eyes, it was obvious to Neltharion he saw something different in the pupils he once adored. Now they…were filled with distrust? Filled with sadness? How can her eyes' even hold such emotions within them at this moment?

Nay, he continued his own thought process aloud by speaking; "No, Life-Binder! We must destroy this atrocity to the universe before it can harm anything else on this world or any other! And we will accomplish this, under my leadership, under my head!", although her response was not much appreciative of this.

"Malygos is already leading his Blue Dragon…", but she was interrupted by a violent outburst from Neltharion.

"Malygos? MALYGOS? That worm can barely even lead a squadron of his flies in a tight nit group then take out the Burning Legion! He is only jealous of my power, my intellect, my strength! So he dare challenges me by leading his flight into the heat of battle without my council? Without MY acknowledgement? He shall pay dearly for this insult…", as Neltharion cursed at the blue aspect's name it was now he could see that his Queen was…disturbed.

No, this wasn't the correct term for the facial expressions that had appeared when he spoke moments ago. Anger? Fear? Perhaps both, though in her eyes…there was the embodiment of fear within them. Then another object came to his attention; she was quivering as if her life was about to end mere moments from now , and so moving backwards every so slowly to escape death. The once bright red shade of her scales had been reduced to, in his vision, a pseudo-maroon color which brought him more discourage then happiness.

But why would she be in this state? She had nothing to fear from him, since she wouldn't betray him! …Or would she?

Sure, he had heard whispers telling him of the betrayals of Nozdormu, Malygos and Ysera. But Alexstrasza? No…she would not attempt to misuse their friendship for the sake of power, for the goal of usurping him!

Yet the whispers echoed within his mind, ripping his mentality of her to pieces bit by bit. Memory by memory.

"She will only usurp your power, mighty Neltharion…She is in league with the other Dragon Aspects to remove this power that they fear is greater then them!"

No, this could not be true! How could she even betray him? They were the best of friends, closer then any other Aspects were! He…almost could say that…

"Do not be fooled by her lies Earth-warder!", the whispers spoke out, "You are all alone…they only wish to see your death or…your power drained. Their friendships were nothing but foul play to obtain what they could from you…"

And slowly, the belief of these whispers came clear to him. Her fear was the fear of being outshined by Neltharion.

"Neltharion…please! Return home…return to the Temple so the war can not escalate any fu-", as Alexstrasza began to plead with Neltharion he interrupted in a rather furious tone.

"This war shall be the end of all wars within the realm of Azeroth! I promise you this, for I shall make all those who dare to oppose a unified Azeroth under the dragons will be destroyed…You are trying to make me flee with my tail between my legs! To make me look cowardly and foolish in this climatic end of all things.", Neltharion's glare at the Queen was one purely of hatred.

How could she do this to him? Try to make him leave in this final of battles? Though…she was crying now…why? Was it because he had uncovered the truth of her masque?

If so she was doing it rather convincingly, almost if it was real. "What if it is real, Earth Warder?", questioned a small voice within his subconscious. Was it his or the Old Gods?

It mattered not either way…he was assured they were not real and yet her next statement tossed him into confusion. "I would never betray you Neltharion! I have opened everything with you, I was also closest to you in your time of need as did you do the same…I could never make you cowardly, you who first proposed an all out attack on the Legion and wanted to destroy them indefinitely! Why do you think such things…I want your safety at the highest of all things, that is why I seek your leave…I do not want to see you become a martyr or the legend which died before my eyes…"

If she was lying, her acting was superior to any Neltharion had ever seen. The very sound booming from her was…different from her usual 'lively' mood. Now it was dead, depressing, and had little to no life within it.

The obvious consequence to this was that something, perhaps an emotion, was bashing his mind with her voice repeatedly. Was it guilt? Remorse? Or simply the emotion he felt many nights ago, with her by his side.

This only led to confusion, and hesitation on the Earth-Warder's affair. "What am I to do?", his first thought. A question which could never be answered, not now in the current case.

Time seemed to stop for him, as he stared at the Life-Binder's never-ending stream of tears. "Alex-", he tried to utter an apology or calm her into a more stable state. But she would not have it until he left.

She spoke, with a bit of choking up here and there, "No Neltharion I will not go or stop my current actions! Until you leave for the safety of your home, of our home, I will not heed your words…". With that it seemed the Earth-Warder must comply with the Life-Binder's demands.

Yet something proved him wrong. Another whisper, a darker kind, screeched into his mind; "NELTHARION! Do not heed these words of the witch, Alexstrasza! Her tears? Her sadness? The feeling of remorse and regret that dwell within you? All fabricated by her to ally with the mortals, whom shall destroy your plain. With your powers diminished, she shall be the dominant one, not ye! Do you not seek peace? Unity? Prosperity? To create such a world, some things must be broken. In this case…your relationship with that devil! That whore! If she truly loved you, truly wanted you, would she not forsake those pathetic consorts of hers to remain yours forever more? You are only a pawn for her amusement.", and so the whispers continued within this line of betrayal. Of heart-break.

At first it was depression that came into his eyes, as a dark void was pulling him through a darkness he did not care to stop. Then…it was anger. Hatred. Rage. The fires of 'darker emotions' boiled within him.

The last statement he can remember telling the life binder was thus; "I will no longer stand for your lies Life-Binder! For your tricks, your usage of me as a mere toy for your own amusement. You spoke of lack of compassion…the need for one who would fill the void that lies within your heart ever more.

Yet you have four consorts! Korialstrasz, and the rest of the fools who would do anything to get their sex appeal from you. So, why is it you dare come to me with this need of compassion? Are you trying to toy with my feelings? To use me as a political puppet to win your way In the council for a better, more dominant, position? I will have none of it! I shall not be damned to hell, for my destiny is to become A GOD!"

Then all other memories and emotions during that single moment became a blur…but he did remember one thing. The blood…oh how it was everywhere, how he sent the blue-dragon flight into extinction with his own claws, and forcing Malygos to be the last of his kind.

But Alexstrasza's expression…it was one of a haunting masque with the epitomes of fear added within her eyes of sadness. Her terror, something he would never forget in the coming years.

After awakening from the dark memories of the past, the ocean blue began to fade as the land of the 'Eastern Kingdoms' became more than visible to the self-proclaimed; "god of death".

With a crooked sneer, he began to blaze towards Stormwind; the human's capital.

Yet…at the back of his mind, the bottom of his soul, the rear of his heart it was present of doubt once more. "Will she forgive me of my sins I have done against her..?"

The answer remained evasive, for now.

It was an ironic sight…the Life-Binder was now making her way through the Dragon-Blight. This little place was the official 'grave-yard' for the Dragon-flights.

Her reason of being there? The burial of victims of the 'revolt' within the Wymrest Accord. Or rather the 'aggressors' as her own flight described it, seeing that the Black-Dragon flight was always the aggressor, always the villain.

It was more than common now for the Red Dragon Flight to take up arms against those who threatened Azeroth, yet this was now a mere opportunistic attempt to rid of a already small bastion Neltharion could use as an army.

Mortals would call this act a genocide attempt, to get rid of the last opposition to their hegemony of their power. In true; she saw that as the case now.

The Red Dragon flight never saw it as a battle between good and evil, only a struggle between who shall become a dominant player in the world. Oh how the irony hit her mindset, causing her to perform a 'self-exile' for about five months.

A time to think was now, think about how she could solve this problem or even…leave the dragon flight. But that was too rash of a thought, and so a small sigh left her. The heat of her breath formed a small cloud of steam.

A simple reaction to the cold weather, which the Dragon-Blight had constantly. Mortal measurements of the weather had it in; "Below 30 degrees Celsius in winter months, 0 degrees Celsius during spring and summer months."

Although, much to her luck, the Life-Binder found a small cave entrance in this endless grave-yards of fallen heroes. Gliding with graceful speed, she arrived at the darkened site.

To her surprise, with a bit horror, there were several humanoid skeletons within its boundaries. It seemed some adventurers during the Nexus War had lost their way…and met a slow death.

With a cast of her eyes, her sight came to view a small placement of rocks that could suffice for a 'rest' if she wanted to sleep with her back straight.

Yet before this, she cast a blaze of fire in the center of the cave. This would provide the necessary heat in order to survive a night or two within the cave. If she excluded the other necessities of life…such as food or water.

Before she could even begin to think on such matters, the every so hardening cold began to force her into a 'fetal' position in order contain her warm.

Then…it was almost as if time itself ignored her existence, as she felt centuries move pass her when only it might have been a few minutes. Ten to twenty minutes passed by her, feeling as if it was twenty centuries that had gone by.

Slumber beckoned her, soothed her conflicts with nature, her Dragon-Flight and within her own being. Slowly she drifted off into her dreams, to escape the damnation of this world and enter a new world.

Within this dream, the ideal world of Alexstrasza was seen. All were at peace, all life flourished in Azeroth and the Dragon-Flights were united in brotherhood.

Its as if the Old Gods, the corruption of Chaos, never existed. There was no Horde, no Alliance, no form of opposition against this peace.

The magical Blue Dragon-Flight aided the magic wielders, turning them into great scholars and sorcerers. Under the leadership of Malygos, all information was given to mortals of their new found powers of elemental and natural magic.

The timeless Bronze Dragon-Flight, under the hierarchy of Nozdormu, maintained the stability of time. Everything went in the direction of peace and happiness, no wrong doing was created that would harm life.

Her sister, Ysera, and her Dragon-Flight led the druids in peaceful co-existence with nature. There they found true enlightenment, finding their answer to life.

And finally…Neltharion's Dragon-flight, along with her own, were side-by-side in defending Azeroth. Life and Earth, Binder and Warder.

This alternative reality to Alexstrasza was pure bliss…but it changed somewhat. A notice of this would be where the Earth-Warder seemed more attractive and attracted towards her.

At first? It was mere play, toying herself with the possibility that was. But in this current dream, something happened which had it's own subtext.

Neltharion, blazed with his black scales, was beside the Life-Binder as they watched the sun set on another glorious day within Azeroth. She cooed a bit, reaction from being very close to the best-friend who has been with her through and through.

Yet his next action made her blush and back away from him…it was a lick on the cheek, his red tongue with such silver words to explain faults touching her red scales. Having them become a red azure in comparison to the twilight sky.

"E-Earth-Warder!", Alexstrasza retorted immediately after this action. But the black-jet dragon gave a fine smirk, speaking with such elegancy to her ears it was almost as if an angel was speaking to her.

"Life-Binder, you should not act as if you need not want this…transaction. I was just simply following your moves, almost as if it was a graceful dance. Even if you had not intended me to follow your 'smooth moves'…just by the fascinating color that you now show, red, it is obvious you enjoyed what I bestowed upon thee. And I bestowed only one thing that you indeed want, my Queen.", his remarks still putting himself as an innocent being following only what he viewed were moves to be followed.

A mere pout came from the Life-Binder, being forced to a position where she can barely explain the blush and her 'smooth moves'…though she managed to state; "Neltharion…I-I am blushing simply because that type of touch that is generally shared by consorts or lovers! Which we are not…And what evidence do you have of my so-called 'moves'?"

His smirk merely grew in size and sanguine expressions; "Well, my Queen, I simply viewed certain actions that you showed to me willingly as moves to be followed. Always giving me excesses of warmth by choice, inviting me to extravagant parties, giving me the bliss of companionship with you, ec cetera. To follow these moves is simply stating…", he said while getting closer to her face. Edging inch by inch towards a final goal, a bliss he wanted to experience as much as she did. Hesitation took her in the momentum, causing her to stand still in time. All that was left was for her body to shift forward towards his, and the moment would be complete.

"Neltharion I-", but she was cut off…by her own actions in irony. Pushing herself forward to embrace the kiss, which at first was warm, blissful, and given her heart content.

Yet…it changed…after a few moments the warm feeling, its heat induced feeling was given a new emotion. A new touch, one of blazing fire that forced to her to break the kiss pre-maturely.

As she gazed up to see what was the error, her pupils grew in in terror. No longer was Neltharion there, but there was the dark-figured she'd know in an instant.

Deathwing…the Destroyer of Worlds. The hatred in his eyes only intensified as she broke the kiss, and backed up some feet in order to flee his grasp.

His voice boomed with the roar of confusion and anger. "Life-Binder, why did you break such a momentous action? Do you hate me? Do you despise my presence and only to toywith me? I will not have it, I will not lose you to Korialstrasz! I WILL NOT LOSE YOU AGAIN!"

Deathwing lunged at her, eyes wide with terror himself, as he prepared to deliver a final blow against her. And then? Darkness…endless darkness, to which she finally woke up screaming with fear becoming one with her soul.

Was it only a dream that has transpired? Or was it something…more? A message, a view into what was Neltharion. Or what she most appreciated him as of the past.

She did not know, nor did she want to know as of late. Her food supplies, which had been digesting within her for the past five months as a usage of warm, were running out. This meant the Life-Binder must have to take life, or feast on the dead and dying of those who still have meat upon them.

The Nightmare echoed throughout her thoughts "I will not lose you again…", why would she think such trivial thoughts? He was the Destroyer…causing madness among the Dragon-flights which caused her pain to no end. To believe he still cares for her, for anything, would be a whelp's ideal thinking…but reality was cruel. Life, itself, was dark.

Such things could not exist. She kept telling herself that, as the leviathan hunted for food.

Death…destruction…was it not to be the status quota for a warchieft of the Horde? One who had survived through the Third War with the Alliance, and actively fought against the Burning Legion during that age?

He, thought so…as did many others yet when it was left away for years to rust one's nerves may break when death is presented once again, without mercy.

It had been five weeks since the fleets ultimate burning, yes, and yet it still haunted him. The most obvious reason was; that many of whom were burnt alive in a blaze of hellish proportions were his comrades. Compatriots of arms, who he had served with for many a days during old times of war and peace.

Yet why must he keep on their deaths as if it is a burden of the ages? Nay, he must keep the world together at the Maelstrom if there is to be some order. If he did not, who would? None of the kinsmen, here anyway, knew shamanistic powers or qualities.

Though something did remain in his mind, other than the deaths, which he believed should be destroyed immediately. "Deathwing…", that name now was a object to be fear and hated.

Was it the name itself, or rather the being who carried its name? Perhaps both, the name can only be brought full circle with one who kills without mercy or remorse.

"How very intelligent of you, green-skin", whispered a voice. Thrall reacted in a manner which would seem frightful of whatever spoke. Or whomever…the voice sounded such as a man, yet bore qualities that were not of this earth.

A sort of echo, almost, as Thrall realized no one other than he and some crewmen were here. It once again whispered in his ear…within his mind, aggravating him.

"Such a tiny creature, blissfully ignorant of his talents…No wonder they view you as a weakling, green-skin.", the voice echoed a laughter of genuine jest.

Was he going insane? Surely this must be his imagination, or an act to block away the deaths of his comrades. Yet this voice, somewhat warped, continued to speak towards him.

"Do you seek to speak of yourself as merely hearing voices? A phase after the bloodshed of your fellow green skins? A foolish endeavor insect…You hear one of your betters as I have waited for ten thousand years preparing for a moment such as this that is arising! But if you are to address me then you may call me; Neroth. Now, tiny green-skin, I'd advise you to focus on the message that you have been GIFTED with! Your world will face change, one that will sweep the world up in a great tide that will ultimately either consume you or you shall "endure the change". But mortals rarely change, little green-skin…"

"What madness do you speak of, coward?", Thrall replied in hast as the voice continued to insult him. Or…was he warning him? The voice of this being was undefined in the tone of threatening or giving him just a warning.

"HA! Madness? You ignorant fool, what do you possibly know of madness? If you keep trying to digress the problem at hand, then I will leave you to your damned fate no matter how much the War master torments' me! Now…In your world there is a dark one, one you know by name alone, whom will ascend into a power which knows no bounds. Four Dark blessings will be gifted to him after such events of Blood, Corruption, Perfection, and Knowledge will be obtained. Once he was received the gifts, all shall fall beneath his might. And your world…will be consumed by the Warp."

And then, the voice was gone as if it never existed. Thrall leaned back against the mast of his ship, the Avenger, as he attempted to focus on the maelstrom's rage against the world.

Yet this "warning" he was given, was vague. Not only vague but it gave a part clue to whomever this one to be gifted with 'four dark blessings' was; he was only Thrall only knew by name.

He knew only a few people by name…But he shifted his head, raised his hands into the sky and called upon the spirits of Azeroth to aid him.

A blazing green light appeared within his palms, as he chanted ancient spells to counter the maelstrom's unstable state as of now. "The Maelstrom comes first, the world comes first, vengeance comes as a secondary goal."

"Nozdormu. You are running out of time, the Destroyer is loose and millions die once more as you stand by and do nothing.", Eeztch beckoned to the bronze dragon once more as five weeks passed when Deathwing returned to the mortal plane.

At first, the Aspect only kept time in place. Deathwing was to live, for now, and would be defeated eventually by mortals for the last time.

Just as the Lich King or Malygos was, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about why he was allowing Deathwing to live to kill another day. "I should kill him now…", he began to think this action at a rapid rate.

To kill the Destroyer, will end the chaos that now exists on Azeroth…to kill him will save the Dragon flights.

But if he does kill him than history will change, for good or ill, and this will damn him for the rest of his days. To kill a single being…to save millions or destroy them.

"Your power can save them all; Alexstrasza, Kalecgos, Ysera, the denizens of Azeroth and even Malygos, Nozdormu. All you have to do is tear a threshold into a void which is in-between Azeroth and the Nether zone…and my servant shall aid you in the death of Deathwing."

"Pardon me, Eeztch! But how am I to know Deathwing will not die if I do not intervene? Time is also available to me, if you do not know, so I know all courses that shall, may, and will happen!", protested Nozdormu.

"Do you? Are you readily to pronounce that you know all that will be? All that is? All that shall? Such a simple minded creature, for if you know what shall be than this will be of no consequence", the voice echoed with a chuckle as the space around him was consumed by Darkness.

It slowly ate at him as well, but he did nothing as this was to be a vision into the future that will bear no consequence upon his psyche.

The world began to take form, as Azeroth grew from its simple beginnings. The grass, a lush dark green variant, consumed the plane in a glory only Alexstrasza and Ysera would admire. The mountains rose from their small pebble origins, rising to a great height of god-like status.

Neltharion…he would have been proud of such things. As the bronze giant turned his gaze toward the sky, magical wisps slowly took form to spread their gift throughout the world of Azeroth.

It seemed blissful, and although wars came and went life continued on in spite of it all. Yet…a small fire started near a tree. At first, the Bronze one thought it would simply go away.

But it did not, as it soon spread among the bark of the tree and than spread to the grass via air. The fire roared across the plains, consuming all plant life and than attacked the towns without mercy.

Men, women, children; all were crying for help as they attempted to put the fires out with water. Their gods, whom their worshipped all the time, did not answer their pleas. Eeztch bellowed within his mind: "Look at these mortals, calling for false gods or misadventure'd heroes to rescue them from their plight. See how weak-minded they are, as they immediately beg for mercy to whomever saves them."

And behold, a dragon, whose scales were tightly packed with Adamantium armor, 'rescued' them from their plight. As the rest of the world was consumed by this flame, when they cried out the same dragon came again and again.

Soon, as the fire died out, the dragon was revealed to be none other than the infamous Deathwing. The dragon was bristled in both scales and armor, and soon he was proclaimed a hero…a god.

At first all was good surprisingly, as the mortals did not converse in wars or trivial conflicts of the sort. Yet…they were arming themselves still, receiving training for combat, and gaining armor similar to the Betrayer's.

And then? The dark one assembled his mortal armies to attack the home of the dragons…Wymrest temple, along with those mortals who did not view him as a god.

Once more did the fire start again, consuming all who participated in this grand conflict of a world scale. Yet no one stopped the flames this time, as all were merely fighting for their own survival until there was nothing but ash and dust on the once fertile fields of Azeroth.

Blood was everywhere, and in the battlefield among all the corpses stood four thrones. The first was entirely made of skulls of all those who had fought, be their innocent, madman, or righteous soldier…all who fell were added to the collection.

The second throne was more conspicuous, as this throne was made from books yet it also bore magical essence. The books themselves being a base for the actual throne, as magical items, potions, and ultimately magic itself held and was the core of the throne itself.

And in the center of this throne stood an all seeing eye of knowledge, which knew past, present, and future yet did not allow this information to pass without its authority.

The third throne was a corrosive green…the bile and disease that had consumed the world in the fires of war soon took over with diseases that no one was capable of surviving. Those who did, somehow, survive were bloated, misshapen beings who were abominations.

Atop of that throne stood three circles connected with a similar number of arrows pointing out of the circles. One for each.

The fourth and final throne was filled with oddities, objects of excess and even mortals consumed in excess. Man, dragon, Orc, Tauren…none were spared in those who survived the bloodshed, the magic or the bile.

The symbol that stood atop this throne was one of a combination such as the previous one, the male and female symbol combined into a warped symbol that stood for them yet something more.

And so at the end of this world, brought about by Deathwing the destroyer, there will stand four thrones of Chaos which symbolize how it came to be.

War, Ambitious, Decay and Excess brought the world to its knees.

"See little dragon? The future you see is one of your own arrogance blinding your sight. THIS, is the true future that awaits Azeroth Nozdormu. If you do not obey my word, than the world will die by the four sins that mortals are given and that he has. Will you let them, will you let the dragons, go into a hellfire of no return as you wait for death? Be very careful my friend…it might be your last decision."

The vision then faded into realm of Nozdormu, a world of time in which he watches all time come and go. With a sigh he began to claw at this dimension, cutting in-between Azeroth and the Nether region.

And so fell the great Aspect Nozdormu to temptation, as a great bird glistened with azure feathers, one that very much resembled the color he saw the magic being composed of, came into his plane.

It carried a cane, with an ancient language none could comprehend along with a book that was filled with pages of time from its beginning to its end.

"Meet my servant, Nozdormu, mortals call him a 'Lord of Change'…but I degree his name as; Ezekiel. He will help you little dragon."

These were the last words Eeztch spoke to Nozdormu, as the Lord of change soon took charge of the realm and changed it into a realm of change itself.